Waiting For Yesterday
by p.s.Pancake
Summary: -Revised Version- When someone appears with no past, present, or future, what can you think of them? Is there a connection to Delilah, and why is Jezebel drunk?


A/N: Well, hello once more, fellow readers. It has indeed been a while. And, yet, here I am, re-writing this entire story for your enjoyment. If you're wondering what it took to make this decision, it was reading it after a while.

I have to give _extra-special_ thanks to DarkAngelJudas, my beloved editor Yami, and everyone who gave me the 44 reviews I had. You all are so amazing. -sniff-

Well, here you are. I hope you enjoy the revised version of Waiting For Yesterday:

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Count Cain or Godchild.

Chapter 1:

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a large manor, typically boring and as plain as any other lining the lush countryside. In other words, a noble's home. If you could call it that. Homes are places where people live, and Cain C. Hargreaves certainly did not feel particularly alive. He had picked up a young lady a few days ago, taken her home, and awoken to a very angry younger sister, who promptly sent the girl home. Ever since then, he had heard nothing, aside from how awful he was to the female population. And, now, an incredibly long carriage ride to (hopefully) a peaceful retreat at his summer home. Hearing nothing except how terrible and disgusting he was. All Riff could do was to agree with Mary, else be yelled at himself.

Neither of them was enjoying the ride very much at all.

Fortunately, as stated earlier, the carriage stopped. Cain practically ran out of it, up the steps, through the door, and into his room, where he locked the door's deadbolt. No one would talk to him for the next twelve hours, he decided. And that was that.

Outside, on the cobbled drive, Riff was calling upon servants to carry the bags, and little Mary Weather was exploring her newest home. Riff had recognized and remembered the building, but Mary, being a somewhat new addition to the family, had never seen such a magnificent estate. She was most certainly eager to explore. And she, being a child, did so.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

For some extremely bizarre reason, Jezebel found himself moving around in the lower side of London; not quite the slums, but not the greatest area in the city. Granted, Jezebel had never really liked _any_ part of London, but he'd prefer to be in the more expensive area.

He surveyed the scene in front of him with contempt and dislike, moving his haughty gaze over the people crouched in the streets. In some ways, he pitied them; they, who were viewed as nothing more than victims- nay, the _animals_- in Delilah's wake, and who were going nowhere in their lives.

Jezebel liked to think that he had a goal in his ministrations. He had to live for _something_. No one loved him, and yet he continued to live. There was a reason- he knew that. It was just buried.

Perhaps his reason for life was to _find_ his reason for life.

Ugh- a beggar had just thrown himself at Jezebel's feet. Silently, the doctor mused on ending this man's life. It wouldn't be a pity- the man had nothing to keep going for, no family to return to. No money to squander, no booze to forget about life with. A truly miserable existence. It would be a mercy to take his life.

But, there was no reason, Jezebel decided. It just wasn't his style to be merciful. Let the man continue on his retched path to damnation. What did he care?

The answer to that was nothing.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Riff was getting worried. With Lord Cain in hiding from his small sibling, Mary had run off to explore. Now, he couldn't find her. He had tried getting in Cain's door to tell him to keep his eyes peeled for the miniature antagonist, but it was all to no avail. The door was locked, Master Cain asleep. It was up to him to find the child, proving to be much harder than it sounded.

A young maid ran up to him, her round face red, mouth open in a pant, telling him that Mary Weather had been and was in the kitchen, making pies with the main cook. Riff thanked her, thinking about how often people were always in the one place he never bothered to look. Of course she was in the kitchen! After checking absolutely everywhere else in the oversized mansion (who needs eighteen bedrooms?), the only places left were the servants quarters and the kitchen.

Walking to the kitchen, he could begin to smell fresh-baked pies, and hear little Mary's voice laughing with the cook. When he got close enough, he could see the round lady smiling at the beautiful child whose dress was covered with flour and goodness-knows-what-else.

A cold shock swept through his body as he saw the boy sitting at the table, a large slice of pie in front of him. After that, warm relief as he realized that it was just a helper, not the evil doctor's sidekick as he first thought. Calm down Riff, he thought to himself. You're losing your head in paranoia. Delilah has no dealings with us now. We left the doctor in the city, Alexis even farther behind him. There's no reason to panic every time you see a dark-haired young boy.

"Miss Mary Weather," Riff began, only to have the child playfully throw a fistful of flour at him. "...Miss Mary Weather, please come to dinner. It will be time to get ready for bed soon." he continued, ignoring the white powder adorning his dark jacket. Mary dutifully hopped down from her stool, said goodnight to the boy and the cooks, and followed Riff out of the kitchen, away from the pleasant smell of freshly-baked goods into the stale smell of a lonely building.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

London is far too busy, Jezebel thought with hatred. Oh, how he despised this city! One needed at least twenty maps _just_ to get around on one street! And he did not have twenty maps. He didn't even have one.

Jezebel Disraeli was hopelessly and miserably lost. His white jacket and pants had become stained, his shoes scuffed, and he had begun mindlessly grasping at the scalpel hidden in his jacket for comfort. He was actually _afraid_ to turn down an alley for fear of finding a mob of people inside it, waiting to tear him apart, so he had stuck mainly to the high streets. That gleaned him a lot of attention. People simply loved to stare at a well-dressed, obviously lost man in the middle of the night, didn't they?

In fact, he thought he was being followed. For the past four or five turns, he had heard footsteps behind him, echoing his. Perhaps it was just his mind coming around to haunt him, or he was being paranoid, but he certainly did not want to be mugged.

Every few moments, he turned around sharply. After a while, it became obvious that someone _was_ following him; a large man, but the look of him. Jezebel did not like large men- they frightened him and reminded him of that awful 'priest'.

Ducking inside the nearest building with a sign on the door and lights on, Jezebel sidled his way up to the counter and looked around. He was in a bar. A cheap one; the chairs and tables were all mixmatched, the mugs were different sizes and shapes, the cabinets were obviously handmade, and the bar itself was chipped and scuffed. He looked around. He was in a good place to hide from someone. It was packed with people, most trying to order a drink. Light from the streetlamps outside struggled to get inside, and everything was dim as a result.

Jezebel put his head on the counter, and a girl in front of him giggled. He didn't bother looking up. It was not a good night for flirting. He was tired and dirty.

"What can I get you?" she asked. Her voice was annoyingly high-pitched and sounded almost as if she was singing. It irritated him.

Jezebel raised his head to glare at her and tell her to go away when he realized she wasn't there anymore. Frowning, he looked around, but there was no girl in sight. Frustrated, he decided he was hearing things and slumped back down again.

"Ahem." the same voice came back again. He snapped his head up so fast his glasses slid off his nose. Still no girl. What the hell, came the thought he knew was fighting it's way up.

To no one in particular, he said, "Where are you?"

"Hmmm?" came the voice. He could place it this time, and he craned his head over the bar to get a glimpse of red hair. He sat back down, satisfied, and put his head back down.

"Well?" Ugh, he groaned inwardly. Bugger off. Was it not obvious to everyone here that he wanted to be left alone?

"Gin." he grunted out, frustrated at her persistence. There must have been a good fifty people crammed into this particular pub and she only wanted to give _him_ a drink. He supposed she wanted him to feel special.

After a short while, a dirty mug filled with gin was set before him, the drink practically spilling over the top.

He drank. For how long, he didn't know, but every time he held his glass out, or pushed it away, it was magically refilled. And he just kept trying until his vision began to blur.

Eventually, he held out his glass and it was pushed back. Glaring angrily up at the offender, he noticed whoever it was had red hair.

"Oh. It's you." Too drunk to form a decent response, that was the only thing he could manage to grunt out. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's me. And you're you. And we're closing." Oh. Now _that_ was a hitch in his plans... Whatever those were. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of them. Jezebel pushed himself off his stool and tried to stand, wobbling a little. This was... awkward. Father would be very disappointed. He might be punished. Jezebel let out a little sob. Aw, he would be _punished_. Just because he _had_ to stop for a drink. Angrily, he glared at the girl, who he was currently holding responsible for his state of mind.

She glared back, determined to get him out of there. It formed into a staring contest. He vaguely registered that she had blue eyes.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Riff could just not get a break. He helped Mary brush her hair, braid it, brush her teeth, get dressed for bed, turn down the bed, get in, tell her a story, sing to her (Lord, he hoped no one else had heard that...), and she still wouldn't go to sleep. Now, her current order was to get her some warm milk. So he promptly rushed down four flights of stairs to get some. After going back up those stairs, he discovered her reading. Saying she wasn't tired, she asked that he put the milk down and she'd get to it.

...And Master Cain still wouldn't come out of his room. Life was frustrating. He'd be furious if he came out now and discovered Mary Weather reading when her bedtime was over an hour ago.

Nothing ever goes right for the butler.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

The staring contest ended badly; he toppled over before he could really start intimidating her. She started to laugh. Jezebel made a mental note to come back and kill her after he'd slept off his drinking binge. All he did was try to stand, still tipping gently back and forth, trying to get his bearings by holding onto a chair.

The redhead slipped under the counter and put her arm around his waist, holding him steady as she gently walked him to the stairs leading outside. The place was better lit now, and far emptier. Only a few stragglers (himself included) lay passed out in the corners or flung over chairs and tables, their black eyes the sole reminders of what had transpired last night between them and others. He let the girl lead him out into the blinding sunlight. He felt like retching; his head pounded as if elephants were inside it, and his eyes ached at everything he looked at. He squinted them nearly shut, trying to block out as much light as possible.

He felt her gently pull him down, and he let himself be lowered to the ground until he sat on the filth-covered curb. He put his eyes in his palms, effectively blocking out the world, and listened to the people walking by. He could feel himself sobering, the fogginess being replaced by sharp pangs.

Jezebel felt the red-headed girl sit next to him and wondered briefly why she didn't just go back inside.

"Nice, isn't it?" she asked casually, her high voice searing his head. He didn't want conversation; he wanted a painkiller. But she continued on. "It's pretty with all the people just getting up in the morning."

She was looking at him- he could feel it. She wanted him to look up so that she could analyze him. Everyone was always trying to see through him. Well, he'd show her!

Defiantly, he raised his head so his bloodshot eyes met hers. They were locked in a match for a few moments, his peeved and hers mildly amused.

And then they hit him full-force and he had to look away. They were not the eyes he had been expecting; he had expected them to search him, not to scour his being. They were the brightest, most electric blue he had ever seen, and they held a trace of eagerness he wasn't quite sure he liked. He didn't want to look at them again unless they were in a jar on a shelf.

"What's the matter?" she asked. He didn't feel like answering.

She gave up and stood, whistling loudly for a hansom to come to the curb. It took a while (they were all either busy or nonexistent in this part of the city), but one eventually pulled up. He stood and, still shielding his eyes, fumbled for the door. He felt the girl walk up next to him and pull the door open. Without even thinking to thank her, he entered and prepared to shut it, but she held a hand out firmly.

"You know, you're welcome to come back anytime." she said, and shut the door.

As the cab drove off, Jezebel gained the courage to turn and look behind him once more. There, standing on the curb where he had last seen her, was the bartending redhead with the frightening eyes, still staring at him.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Cain Hargreaves finally decided to come out of his room the following room, not because he particularly wanted to listen to his sister rant, but because he was hungry. Morning meant food. Food meant the end of hunger. And he liked that.

As he walked down the stairs, he came across Riff, whom looked absolutely exhausted, as if he had gained only about three hours of sleep.

"What happened to you?" Cain asked. Riff merely sighed.

"Mary refused to go to sleep last night. I tried everything, but she just complained she wasn't tired. She finally fell asleep after about four hours. Then, I learned that Lady Andrea Winslet wishes to invite you to her party tomorrow. It's impossible to keep a secret in London! I thought no one knew of your coming here."

Cain frowned. "So did I. But I don't think it'll do too much damage to go to a party. I suppose I've become somewhat of a recluse since Delilah decided to rear it's ugly head."

"...Are you sure, Sir? I can accept the invitation, if you'd like, but..." Riff drifted off. Cain caught it.

"What? But what?"

"Are you sure about her party? She's known for being rather nosy. Nosy people follow nosy people. It might be bad if you were pummeled by people wanting to know where you've been for the past two months."

"That's fine. I'll merely say I wanted out of the public eye for a little time. I'm pale enough, I can say my health wasn't very good."

"Alright then, I'll send a message boy off to her mansion."

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to get breakfast."

"Yes, Sir."

As Cain walked toward the kitchen, he could hear Riff calling for the messenger boy to take a message to Lady Andrea. Cain sighed. Parties. His father loved them. Maybe he wasn't quite ready to go to another one just yet. For all he knew, being in the public eye would start Delilah up again. No! He musn't think like that. If his father begins his diabolical actions once more, he'd fight him again. Maybe this time they could end these ministrations, this dance of death. Yes, he would go to the party. He would flirt. He had recently picked up a girl, but Mary ended that quickly. He must get back to his old ways of flirting with the ladies, appearing carefree and rich. And he was. He was a teenager. Teenagers, even Earls, must be like kids while they still could. Screw Delilah, he was going to be normal. As normal as he could.

Upstairs, Mary was just waking up to a beautiful day. Sunlight streamed into the windows, across the floor, and onto the bed. Outisde, birds chirped. Trees blew in the breeze. Mary loved mornings. Everything always seemed so alive. And she was certain today was going to be good. Maybe she could even see if there were any other girls her age living around here. Maybe even make a friend. That would be great. Brother always said she should socialize more. Like he should talk, but still... She was just a girl, and she should have friends. In fact, she thought that she would do that today. Maybe go see the messenger boy- he should know just who lived around here. That way, they could go together and she wouldn't feel like such a loner.

There was a knock on the door. "Miss? Are you dressed? Your brother is ready to eat, but he'd like you there with him." a maid called out from behind the heavy wooden door.

"Yes, I'll be down in a moment!" she called back, meaning it. She should stop harassing Cain- he was only doing what a boy should do. Still, it was rather disturbing to go into her brother's room and find another person in his bed. It was... awkward.

Mary climbed out of her bed, put some slippers on her tiny feet, and ran downstairs to meet her brother for the morning meal.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Cassian was being, pardon his language, a royal ass today. Was it really too much to ask to just go upstairs, undress, and crawl into bed? _Of course it was_. At least, it was in Cassian's eyes. The instant that Jezebel had opened the door, the little assistant had nearly jumped him, throwing questions this way and that.

'Where was he? Did he see Cain? Why were his eyes like that? Did he have to hide a body? How's the research going? What happened? Why are your clothes so dirty?' All that and more. Among the questions, one registered. 'Did you know the Cardmaster requested you?' Aw, damn, he'd have to go and face his father. He knew that punishment was coming; it didn't take as long as he thought it would, but it still came.

He attempted to just brush by Cassian, but couldn't quite make it, and nausea overcame him. He had one foot on the stairs when he leaned over and vomited. Cassian stared at him in horror as he continued retching.

Slowly, Jezebel straightened back up. He felt better, that much was certain. Possibly good enough to face his father, a task which he didn't look forward to. He grimaced at the thought of the wry smile on his father's face as the whip came sailing through the air, but shrugged it off as he felt ready to retch once more.

Cassian took his arm and gently led him upstairs, changing his mind about making Jezebel's ears ring with questions and deciding to let the man sleep it off.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

The party was going to be decent, Cain thought. The messenger boy had returned with a confirmation and thanks from the lady, and a list of people who were going to be present. Cain had looked it over once, decided it was going to go fine. He didn't seem to really know any of the people who were coming. That was fine. New faces, a chance to start anew. Yes, his reputation would undoubtedly precede him, but it was never too late to change, eh?

Mary was happy, that was a relief. Riff was sound asleep in his room. Apparently him and Mary Weather had a very difficult time last night. Well, a good time for her. He'd have to make sure that he was always there to get her to sleep. Riff seemed to have quite the bit of trouble, but it never bothered him to make her sleep.

Changing his thoughts completely, Cain thought about how much more peaceful life was here. The atmosphere had change altogether. He found he quite liked being in the countryside. England was beautiful here, with meadows, flowers, and life. Nothing terrible, threatening, or horrifying. Nothing to disturb Mary, him, or Riff. Not even Uncle Neil was here to avoid him, avoid Mary, or pester him about something he hated to be pestered about. Meaning anything.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Cassian woke Jezebel around 5 in the evening. He had gone to see the Cardmaster, and he had told Cassian that Jezebel was to attend the evening party of a Lady Andrea Winslet. Cassian was certain that Jezebel was going to be just thrilled to go to a party of someone he didn't know, and do nothing other than mill around, mingle, and entertain others. The Cardmaster had mentioned something about searching for an item that was going to be on one of the ladies, most likely a valuable necklace or bracelet of some kind. But everyone knew there wasn't really much Jezebel disliked more than being forced into large groups of people with nothing to do.

In fact, to give him credit, the doctor was quite the actor. He could make it seem like he was a charming bachelor, a sweet young man, or even the ladies' man.

He shook the doctor's shoulders, emitting a loud groan from him. Yes, Cassian mused, he must be feeling quite horrible at the moment.

Jezebel's silver-grey eyes flickered open. Another groan. He put his arm in front of his eyes, blocking out what sunlight came into the room. Cassian reached over to the stand beside the bed and handed him the round spectacles that adorned the man's face. Then told him his task. He hoped the doctor's head was still fuzzy and he wouldn't pay much attention to his henchman's words. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get out of the room before the doctor came to full understanding.

After putting his glasses on, Jezebel realized that he was still wearing the suit he had worn the previous day. Disgusting. It was probably encrusted with all kinds of filth. He'd have to change. Dismissing Cassian, he got up and walked to the wardrobe. Cassian had talked of a party. Yes, he'd go. He wouldn't like it, but he'd go.

Picking out a different white suit, he shed the one he'd been wearing and walked into his bathroom. Taking a long look at himself, he decided that a bath wouldn't be necessary. He'd shave- he had to. Comb his hair, rinse his mouth, and get dressed. That was it. That was all the scum called the upper class would ever get- no, deserve- from him.

Ugh. Maybe that would wait a moment. His head! Goodness. The tall doctor couldn't ever remember this much of a headache. Lying back down on his bed, he forced himself to stay awake. If he fell asleep now, Cassian would have to come back in. His father would most likely whip him for running late (it wasn't like him, after all), and, worst of all, he'd have to be seen naked. He had never even bothered getting redressed.

Moaning, he raised himself. Better get to it.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

Cain loved taking baths. They always made him feel so good. Clean, as if everything was washed away in the warm water. Even now, he sank even farther down into the rapidly-cooling water as Riff walked into the room carrying an armful of towels. His manservant then left once more and came back carrying one of Cain's perfectly tailored tuxedos. Grabbing a towel, Cain lifted himself out of the large tub, sitting on the edge. He never minded Riff seeing him nude. It was just natural for him.

"Lord Cain, the party begins in about an hour."

"We don't have to rush. I'm never on time anyway." he said, taking another towel and drying his upper body.

"Yes, sir. The coach is ready for whenever you'd like to use it."

"You'll take care of Mary, I presume? I'll most likely be late coming home tonight, and will not like to be bothered. If you understand." Riff turned slightly pink.

"Yes, sir." He gulped. Putting Mary to bed a second night in a row? Would she be as difficult as she was last night? Or was that merely the excitement of a new home? Oh, he prayed that was it. Life would be so much better if it was.

"Is something wrong? You're being quite quiet tonight, Riff."

"No, sir. I'm merely... Frightened of your sister's reluctance to sleep." he mentioned, hoping that Cain wouldn't be upset by his complaint.

"...Yes, I can see how that would be a problem. Here, help me get dressed. Then, I'll talk to Mary Weather and I'll leave for the evening." he said.

For some completely inexplainable reason, Cain had a feeling that this was not going to be a particularly pleasant night.

**-imalineimalineimalineimalineimaline-**

A/N: My goodness, I never realized how long this was until I had to rewrite it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the edits. It's more or less the same chapter, but it took major work with Jezebel's personality to get it this way. It's not as happy-go-lucky as it was before. I hope it's an improvement. But, whether you love it or hate it, write your opinion in that little reviewing box, ppppurty please?

Love and Redone Scalpels,

p.


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